


starfuckers

by tgrsndshrks



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Finger Sucking, Friends to Lovers, Glitter, M/M, Mirror Sex, Pole Dancing, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Sex Work, Sexual Confusion, Slow Burn, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:44:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgrsndshrks/pseuds/tgrsndshrks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's a strange feeling, Brian decides, having strangers want to fuck you. He can see it in the way they watch him swing his hips and slide down the pole. He peels the slip off and scratches his nails down his chest, lowering himself to crawl along the stage. Brian feels someone tuck a bill into the waistband of his panties and he must look like a whore. He can feel the pride welling up in his chest. And when he catches a very wide-eyed Jeordie peeking out from the backstage door, he can't help the grin on his face.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>or, jeordie is a stripper and brian gets a job working at the club with him. jeordie has a nice butt and brian just has a lot of feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	starfuckers

**Author's Note:**

> once again i have no excuse for this. please don't take this too seriously.
> 
> this happened because brian likes to treat his mic stand like a stripper pole, and i was also peer pressured by sara and emma (but not really i'm just playin).
> 
> think portrait era, just set in 2015, if that makes any sense. title from starfuckers inc by nine inch nails.
> 
> DISCLAIMER (added to author’s notes of all fics w/ twiggy in them on nov. 13 2017): i no longer support jeordie white/twiggy ramirez after he was accused of rape and sexual assault/harassment by several people, particularly an ex girlfriend. i’m not sure if i’m going to leave these fics up on my page or orphan them, but i want to publicly state that as a Real Life Person, i do not fuck with twiggy at all anymore and will not be including him in fics from hereon out. i do not endorse his behavior and the character in this fic is a completely fictionalized character, independent of the real life jeordie/twiggy.

It's Saturday night and Brian is laid out on the couch watching another documentary on Netflix. He figures he's probably the most boring person in Fort Lauderdale, and that's saying something considering the number of old people retired around here. He's mostly waiting for Jeordie to get home so they can smoke a bowl and he can tell him about whatever sloppy shit went down at the club tonight. Jeordie is always full of good stories. Especially now that he's got the top billing at work. Brian delivers pizzas, which is exactly as shitty as it sounds.

Brian hears Jeordie's key in the lock and pauses his documentary, sitting up and looking over at the door as Jeordie makes his entrance. The door opens and Jeordie trips in, nearly dropping his bag of clothes and his keys.

“Fuck,” Jeordie says.

“How was work?” Brian asks.

“Fucking fantastic,” Jeordie says, sounding like work was the absolute opposite of fantastic. “Bachelorette party.”

“Oh no,” Brian says tragically. Jeordie dumps his bag on the table, digging through it.

“You'd think women would tip more generously,” Jeordie says, “with the whole objectification thing being relatable I guess? Because female strippers?” He pulls out a wad of ones and drops them in Brian's lap. “But nope. Fucking ones.” He flops on the couch next to Brian. “The men may be gross but at least they tip with fives and tens. Christ.”

Brian rifles through all the ones – well, it's not all ones, because he finds a few bigger bills, including a twenty – and counts in his head. “This has to be like a hundred and fifty bucks though,” he says. “This is more than I make in a week.” Jeordie scoffs.

“Well it was a shit night for me,” he says. “Learn to walk in heels and I'll bring you in to try you out.”

“I'm way too straight to strip in a gay club,” Brian says.

“Please,” Jeordie says, taking his cash back. “I'm like, the only queer that dances there.”

“Seriously?” Brian asks.

“Yeah,” Jeordie says. “I'd bring you in but like. You have nothing to wear.” Brian snorts. Jeordie looks at him. “You have lingerie?”

“A bit,” Brian says. “I'd probably have to go shopping if I got the spot but I have stuff to try out in.” He pauses. “I mean, if I tried out.”

“Please,” Jeordie says. “You can borrow my heels but then you have to get your own after you get in. I really need somebody to fill the chair next to me because the gay guy on the other side of the empty space is trying to get up my ass far enough to chew my food for me.” Brian smiles weakly.

“Maybe I'll try,” he says. “He'll be disappointed to be stuck next to a straight guy then.”

“You realize men are gonna hit on you right?” Jeordie asks.

“They already hit on me,” Brian says. “I literally look like a woman.” Jeordie cocks his head, considers it.

“I guess that's fair,” he says. “I'm gonna get the pipe and shit. And change your fucking Netflix shit because I ain't trying to watch a Holocaust documentary while I'm getting stoned.”

 

x

 

Brian learns that he isn't much good at any of the fancy pole tricks that Jeordie tries to teach him. He learns that strip clubs are poorly lit even in daytime, and that he makes a pretty good femme. Even Jeordie looks impressed, which is saying something, considering that Jeordie regularly gets mistaken for a women even when not in drag. Brian borrows a pair of Jeordie's flatforms and mismatches his stockings and teases his hair and does his makeup and just generally looks like a goth girl version of himself.

“You have to pick a name,” Jeordie says. “Pick a chick's name. It's way funnier that way.”

“What's yours?” Brian asks.

“Twiggy,” Jeordie says.

Brian looks at himself in the mirror. With all the lace and the stockings, he does look rather glamorous.

“Marilyn,” he decides. Jeordie snorts a laugh.

“Cute,” he says.

Brian smooths his lace out and makes sure he's properly tucked. He wants to make a good impression. And apparently he does, because while Pogo, the club owner, is difficult to read, Jeordie is an open book. Slack jawed, blinking dumbly as he watches Brian sliding his ass up and down the pole. Pogo tells him he needs to learn more pole tricks and Jeordie quickly promises to help teach him during off hours. But he somehow gets the spot. Brian suspects Jeordie was a bit too biased when recommending him, or he probably lied to Pogo about his work experience to make him look good. Either way, he's in.

 

x

 

Brian goes shopping on the Thursday before his first weekend of work. There's not much in the thrift shop, but he finds a one-sleeved red sequin top at Goodwill that he thinks would be perfect. He gets a tacky pair of go go boots and at the dollar store he picks up some cheap stockings. He's on the couch in them, carefully ripping them open, when Jeordie gets home with takeout.

“I think I'm going to dance to Nine Inch Nails,” Brian decides, “and I'm gonna wear my platforms I already have.”

 

x

 

Brian sits down at his chair. He puts down his makeup bag on the table and starts unpacking his clothes into the drawers. Jeordie sits in the chair next to him. Brian's vanity looks remarkably bare next to Jeordie's – there's makeup strewn across the surface, with several swear words and penises scratched into the paint. He's got dresses and stockings overflowing out the drawers. Brian folds his shredded stockings as much as possible and tucks them away.

“Did you bring your hairspray?” Jeordie asks, opening a compact and smearing white foundation on his face.

“Oh,” Brian says. “No. I forgot. It's cool though.” He hangs a couple bracelets on the drawer pulls.

“Maybe John will let you borrow some of his,” Jeordie says.

“Who's John?” Brian asks.

“The queer who sits at the chair next to yours,” Jeordie says. Brian looks over. There's several large containers of craft glitter and a feather boa.

“Ah,” Brian says. He unzips his makeup bag and digs. He's not unfamiliar with doing makeup, but he's not really that great. He mostly likes to make himself look as creepy as possible. He changes his mind and decides to dress himself first.

He wears the same thing as he auditioned in, a lace slip with some ruffled panties. He tucks carefully and manages to get his stockings on without tearing them any more than they're already torn. Jeordie is haphazardly smearing black makeup around his eyes.

“Hey,” a voice says behind them. Brian looks up from his makeup bag. “New guy?” This must be John. He's wearing a sheer mesh crop top. Definitely gay. Brian is straight but has had a penis in his mouth, so he figures he has the authority to figure these things out.

“Yeah,” Brian says. “I'm a friend of... Twiggy's.”

“John,” the guy says. He has bleached blonde hair. Also probably a sign of him being gay.

“Brian,” Brian says. “Well. My stage name is Marilyn.”

“Twiggy seriously talked you into a girl's name?” John says, sitting down. “You must be queer too.”

“Nope,” Brian says. He draws on one eyebrow but the other won't work so he decides fuck it and takes them both off.

“Trust, John,” Jeordie says, “if Brian was gay I would've sucked his dick by now. I live with him.”

“Shame,” John says. “Well I hope Brian likes being fawned over by men.”

“I'm not opposed to any type of fawning,” Brian remarks. He grins and pours out his makeup bag to pick colors. He opts for some sort of messy red eyeshadow look and black lips, powdering his face again before he gets his boots on.

“Are you going on floor tonight to do lap dances?” John asks, either to Brian or Jeordie, as he dusts himself with blue glitter. Brian leans away so it doesn't fall on him.

“I am,” Jeordie says. “Bitches love the creepy doll look.” He smears the black around his eyes with his fingers.

“I guess I should,” Brian says. “Would probably pay off to meet people.”

“I, for one, look forward to seeing you pretend to be into these creepy old fucks,” Jeordie says. He snorts a laugh.

“I'm a good actor, I think,” Brian says.

“I'm going on the floor,” John says. “See you fairies later.”

“Fuck you,” Jeordie says, smiling.

“I can't help but sense an underlying but aggressive sense of internalized homophobia with him,” Brian says. Jeordie scoffs.

“John Five licked my asshole for real,” he says. “He has some issues.” He puts his mascara down and sighs. “Should be about time for you to go on. Want me to announce you?”

 

x

 

Brian isn't nervous, really. He's gone past nervous, to the point where he doesn't even feel anxiety anymore. He's so far beyond being nervous that he's calm. He might throw up. Maybe he should've asked Jeordie to give the front row ponchos.

The good news is, the lights are bright enough that he can't see past the first few tables. That helps. He shrugs off the fur coat he borrowed from Jeordie and saunters down the stage to the pole.

Oddly enough, people whistle at him.

It's a strange feeling, Brian decides, having strangers want to fuck you. He can see it in the way they watch him swing his hips and slide down the pole. He peels the slip off and scratches his nails down his chest, lowering himself to crawl along the stage. Brian feels someone tuck a bill into the waistband of his panties and he must look like a whore. He can feel the pride welling up in his chest. And when he catches a very wide-eyed Jeordie peeking out from the backstage door, he can't help the grin on his face.

 

x

 

“Holy shit,” Brian says, setting down the final bill. “This is eighty-seven dollars.”

“My baby slut,” Jeordie says, grabbing Brian's head and kissing the top of it. “Now just wait till you start giving lap dances.”

 

x

 

Jeordie comes home from work on the Wednesday after Marilyn's premiere. He looks flustered, hurriedly rushing and stumbling over his words.

“People were asking where you were tonight,” Jeordie says, as soon as Brian has paused his film.

“What?” Brian asks.

“Apparently you were a hit,” Jeordie says. “You better come in tomorrow. And you better work floor.”

“Seriously?”

“One of my regulars says he has a fresh hundred dollar bill waiting for a private dance,” Jeordie says. He raises an eyebrow. Brian purses his lips.

“Right,” he says. “I'll go in with you tomorrow then.”

 

x

 

Lap dances, Brian learns, are difficult. They require an inordinate amount of arm strength that Brian does not possess. Plus, middle aged men don't really appeal to him, and pretending to be into them is a challenge. Also, Jeordie makes it really hard to concentrate.

Brian is currently schmoozing up to this guy, who's been sat on this couch in this exact spot since he got here. He's probably forty, wears a wedding ring, and when he got his wallet out to tip Brian, there were pictures of two little girls in it. Brian leaves the twenty hanging out of the stay up top of his stocking and climbs into the guy's lap.

Brian guides the guy's hands to his corseted waist, leaves them there as he shakes his hair out and circles his hips. It's when he turns around to sit back in the guy's lap and grind into him that Jeordie gets distracting.

Jeordie isn't purposely being distracting, which is part of what makes it so maddening. He's on the stage at the pole, dragging his skirt up his thighs. Brian blinks rather stupidly, sits still in the guy's lap for a split second, and stares. Jeordie's legs are long for how small he is, and the way his dress rides up when he hooks a knee around the pole is practically obscene. Brian hisses a little bit through his teeth. Oh yeah. Right. He has a job to do.

It's almost physically painful to turn himself away from his first glimpse of Twiggy – it doesn't even look like Jeordie on the pole. But he manages. He puts his hands on the guy's shoulders and rolls his hips over his lap, just an inch too high to make any contact. Brian pulls his hair off his shoulder and peeks, just for a second, back at Jeordie. At Twiggy.

Jeordie has his dress hiked up above his ass, his tights sheer enough to show the lace of his panties. He reaches behind himself and grabs the back of his tights at the seam and tears them open, ripping them wide enough to slide a hand in.

Brian blinks a lot very quickly, turning back to this customer who now looks even more like a toad than before. Brian schemes, which is something he is very good at. He leans into the guy's ear, arches his back.

“Isn't Twiggy fucking hot?” Brian asks him, looking over at the stage where he's now lost the dress. “He's so sexy.” The words sound weird coming out of his mouth, mainly because he's never called Jeordie Twiggy before now and also because calling his male best friend sexy is not the sort of compliment he usually gives.

“Do you two dance together?” the customer asks, looking over with him. Brian manages to stifle his initial reflex to sputter out a no.

“We haven't,” Brian says. He laughs softly. “I'm not sure Twiggy dances with anyone.”

“You ought to,” the customer says. Brian watches as Jeordie gathers his cash on stage and takes his dress backstage with him. _Jeordie has a nice butt_ , Brian thinks. _In a totally straight way_ , Brian also thinks.

“Maybe someday,” Brian says. He flicks his hair back over his shoulder and sits back in the customer's lap.

 

x

 

“Brian, you need to be onstage in like two minutes."

“Yeah, that's not happening.”

“Why?”

“I have eighteen buckles on each boot.”

 

x

 

It takes him a couple weeks, but Brian learns that he can watch Jeordie be Twiggy and maybe want to do bad things to Twiggy but not be into Jeordie. Twiggy looks enough like a girl that Brian decides wanting to bend him over isn't all that gay. Even if it was a little gay he probably wouldn't mind. Brian is comfortable being straight. Marilyn is the ambiguously queer one.

 

x

 

Brian steps out onto the floor in a brand new pair of six inch flatform boots. He's perfectly comfortable being a six foot seven image of aggressive femininity. He fans his face to make sure his false eyelashes have stuck firmly to his lids and steps out to find a guy who wants some company.

He passes Jeordie, who's perched on the arm of a customer's chair. Jeordie looks him over, maybe stares a bit. Brian looks good. It only makes sense that Jeordie would gawk a bit. He winks a false lash. Jeordie snorts a laugh and smiles to himself like he's surprised Brian took to cross dressing so well.

Brian finds a client, one who's very interested in his new boots. Foot and shoe fetishists, Brian has learned, tip very well. Brian sits on the back of the couch and drapes his legs across the client's lap, letting him fawn over them. He sneaks a glance back over at Jeordie and his customer.

Jeordie's standing now, his legs straddling his customer's lap as he sways his hips. The customer brings a hand up to touch Jeordie's waist but he playfully swats it away and gestures for him to keep his hands to himself.

“Who are you watching?” Brian's client asks, peering over with him.

“Twiggy is a friend of mine,” Brian says. “He's sexy isn't he?” It sounded fake a week ago but Brian is starting to believe his own words now. Yeah. Twiggy is sexy.

“I love his boots,” the client says, which is when Brian sort of tunes him out. Foot and shoe fetishists, Brian has also learned, only care about feet and shoes.

“Why don't you kiss mine?” Brian remarks, and the client does. _Foot and shoe fetishists are truly a wonder of nature_ , Brian thinks to himself.

He peers over back at Jeordie, and his client is clearly not versed in the etiquette of strip clubs. The guy is clearly not aware of the no touching rule, because Jeordie keeps removing his hands from his waist or his hips. Brian lowers his brows and his eyes dart around to spot a security guard, but there isn't one. The client pushes his hand up Jeordie's dress.

“Excuse me, love, but I'll be right back,” Brian says, swinging his boots over the client's head and vaulting over the back of the couch. He storms over, nearly knocking over a waitress in the process, shoves Jeordie out of the way, and promptly punches the client in the face.

“Brian,” Jeordie says loudly, looking up at Brian at a very harsh angle.

“What the fuck don't you understand about not touching in this club?” Brian shouts in the client's face. He's holding his jaw and staring at him.

“Fuck you,” the client spits. “Whores are all the same.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Brian yells back. He grabs the guy's shirt and has flung him onto the ground and gotten two more good punches in before security and Jeordie yank him off. Brian tries to shove a guard off him but they get the client out before he can get free.

“What the hell,” Jeordie says, once he and security have let Brian go. Brian is patting at his hair, making sure it's all still in place. “You don't have to beat a guy's ass every time he doesn't understand personal space.”

“I do when it's your personal space,” Brian says firmly. He brings a careful finger to his eyelid. “Are my eyelashes still on?”

“I can't believe you,” Jeordie says, but he's laughing, and Brian smiles. “Sorry I used your real name by the way.”

“Please,” Brian scoffs. “As if I care. If you'll excuse me I have a boot fetishist to attend to.” He strolls back over to the couch and lays his long legs back across his clients lap. Jeordie stays stood there, staring, as Brian smiles over the back of the couch at him.

 

x

 

Brian never thought he'd be at a strip club before noon, yet here he is.

He's here early with Jeordie, who's very attached to his cup of coffee. Jeordie isn't usually awake before three, but he's doing Brian a favor. Jeordie is an encyclopedia of pole tricks. Brian is not. Brian wants to learn inversions. Jeordie has sort of reluctantly agreed to teach him some things under the stipulation that Brian buy him coffee. So Jeordie is nursing his coffee and Brian is taking off his fur coat, waiting for Jeordie to wake up the rest of the way. Enough to spin without falling off the pole.

“You alright with me staying in this dress?” Jeordie asks, reluctantly removing his coat. He's wearing one of his little shift dresses, the green one, with tights, as usual. Brian looks off to the side, considering it briefly. This is Jeordie, not Twiggy. Brian just has to be careful to not want to fuck Jeordie.

“Whatever, man,” Brian says, sitting down and sipping his tea. Brian doesn't drink coffee.

“Cool,” Jeordie sighs. He takes another drink of coffee and sets it on the edge of the stage. “So inversions are pretty simple. It's just a matter of getting your legs over your center of gravity.” Brian nods as Jeordie hops up onto the stage, dusting his hands off on his dress. “You basically just grab the pole like this-” Jeordie grips the pole with his right hand about eye level and the other above his head “-and then just kinda fuckin'.” He sort of just swings a leg up and drops his head back and kicks his legs up and over, out on either side of the pole, then crosses them around it. He looks back over at Brian, his mess of dreads hanging as he asks, “Got that?”

“Not at all,” Brian says.

“I'm a horrible teacher,” Jeordie says, still squeezing the pole with his thighs and hanging there inverted. Brian swallows thickly. Jeordie's dress has ridden up and he can see the thicker part of the material high on his thighs. He unfolds himself from the pole and Brian sighs, maybe a tiny bit relieved. “I'll do it again. I'll see if I can do it slower.” Jeordie cracks his knuckles, grips the pole, and repeats himself, swinging himself into the inversion just as quickly as he had before. Only this time the pole spins a bit and Jeordie's dress falls enough to show just a bit of his bum and the gusset of his tights. Brian bites into black nail polish.

“I guess I can try,” Brian says. “I may as well.”

“Yeah,” Jeordie says. He slides down the pole till he's laying on the floor, looking up at Brian as he steps over to the pole in his practice pleather shorts. “You look really tall from this angle,” Jeordie adds.

“C'mere,” Brian says, cracking a smile wide enough that he feels his lip ring hit his tooth. He pulls Jeordie upright and Jeordie takes a couple steps back as Brian grabs the pole.

“Grip really-” tight, Jeordie starts to say, but Brian has already swung his legs out from under himself and slid down the pole and fallen directly on his bottom.

“Motherfucker,” Brian mumbles, rubbing his ass with one hand and pulling himself up by the pole with the other as Jeordie cackles. “Shut up Jeordie.”

“Sorry,” Jeordie says, laughing through his hands. “I did that the first couple times too.”

“Couple?” Brian asks, pouting. “Shit, man. I can't afford bruises on my ass.”

“Some guys are into that,” Jeordie says, shrugging. “Give it another go. If you want I can go grab a couch cushion.”

“I'm not gonna use a fucking landing pad,” Brian scoffs. He huffs once, grabs the pole again, squeezes, and drops his head back as he kicks a leg out. He's sure it doesn't look very graceful, but he manages, and he only slides a tiny bit. He twists his legs around the pole and looks to Jeordie for approval as the pole spins a tiny bit.

“Nice,” Jeordie says. “You have the most awkward legs on earth but I mean, nice.”

“How do I get down?” Brian asks, looking at the floor above his head.

“Do the same thing you just did but backwards,” Jeordie says. Brian swears inwardly, trying to untangle his legs. “Or just slide down till you land on your back and then lay on the floor and do some sexy shit like I do.”

Brian carefully, gently, loosens his grip on the pole enough to slide down, slowly, his shoulders touching the floor first. He brings his legs down, relaxes into the floor, and sighs exasperatedly. “Fuck, man. Inversions are hard.”

“That's just a simple one,” Jeordie says. “Sorry babe.” Brian gestures his middle finger at him, rubbing his face.

“This is why you get top billing,” Brian says. “And why I usually stick to floor. Because I suck at pole work.”

“You don't suck,” Jeordie says. “You're just new at it.” He smiles a smeared lipstick grin and Brian sighs. Fuck. Did he just get a butterfly? Nope, can't be that. He's just feeling dizzy from being upside down. “Do you want to see another inversion?”

“I guess,” Brian says, gathering himself off the floor. He dusts off his bum. “Don't do too much crazy shit. I just bought you coffee and I'd hate for you to puke it up.”

“I'll be fine,” Jeordie says. “This one is kinda different because you leave your legs out.” He grabs the pole the same way as before and lifts his legs out from under him, out to either side of the pole. His dress falls and Brian almost spits out his tea as he takes in what may be the most glorious sight of his life: Jeordie – no, Twiggy, with his thin little legs kicked out and his ass up and panties showing through his sheer tights. Twiggy. Because Brian wants to shove his face in his ass. No, Marilyn does. Wait. Shit.

“Nice,” Brian says stupidly, his shorts suddenly becoming very constricting.

“Kinda hurts the balls though if you hit the pole with your crotch,” Jeordie says, squeezing his thighs around the pole and straightening himself out so he's parallel to the floor, propping his torso up with his hands. “This is pretty cool too. I can't do it without my hands when I'm wearing tights but if I have bare legs I can let go of the pole.” Brian nods, watching Jeordie somehow turn himself over and dismount. He smooths his dress down, smiles to himself. Brian just sips his tea, nods, watches Jeordie gather himself.

“You're really good,” Brian says. “I appreciate the help. Even if I suck.”

“I told you you don't,” Jeordie sighs, picking up his coffee and drinking. “You just need to practice.” He shrugs.

“Have you ever thought about doing a routine together?” Brian blurts, before he can stop himself. That customer's words had been stuck in his head for the past week. Jeordie looks at him.

“You're saying you're okay with me touching your ass and shit?” he asks.

“A client mentioned it and I thought it'd be fun and all,” Brian says quickly. He sips his coffee before he can dig himself a deeper hole. Brian has a tendency to talk too much.

“Oh,” Jeordie says, considering it. “Maybe we should. It'd kinda work. We both look like creepy goth girls.” Brian snorts a laugh.

“Yeah, if you wanted,” he says. “I think I can put up with some butt touching.” Jeordie smiles, just a tiny bit, and nods.

“I'm such a big scary pansexual,” Jeordie says. “Coming to touch your butt and steal your cooking vessels.”

 

x

 

Maybe, Brian thinks, as he's sitting between John and Jeordie packing silver glitter onto his eyelids, he's a little gay. A little bisexual. Only when it comes to Jeordie. He's not sure if there's a word for being exclusively attracted to women and men who are named Jeordie White.

 

x

 

“I can't believe you're doing a double dance with the one straight guy who works here,” John says, sounding very betrayed. Brian reckons he's a bit jealous.

“Brian's my best friend, okay,” Jeordie says, making sure all the clips on his garters are firmly fastened to his stockings. “Maybe some other time.” Brian snorts, piling on another layer of black lipstick.

“I thought queers were supposed to stick together,” John says, pouting.

“Do you guys have some sort of queer club I don't know about?” Brian asks. Jeordie laughs.

“Yes, babe,” he says, ruffling Brian's hair. “We eat rainbow cupcakes and talk shit about _the straights_.” Brian frowns, smoothing his hair back down.

“Sounds fun,” he says flatly.

“I'm doing floor,” John says, pulling his crop top off one shoulder and flicking his hair before leaving.

“I think he's mad you don't suck dick,” Jeordie sighs. He sits down in his chair and watches Brian as he's finishing up brushing his hair out.

“Yeah,” Brian says, looking over at Jeordie. Jeordie looks especially good tonight, in this little red and white striped dress and torn white stockings. “Do any of your stockings not have holes in them?” Brian asks. “Just wondering.”

“A couple pairs,” Jeordie says, “but that's because I just bought new ones. They'll meet my sewing scissors very soon.” He smiles. Brian smiles too.

“We should go on,” he says. Jeordie stands up and grabs their coats, offering Brian his.

“I still think it's a little silly to put these big fur coats on when we're going to take them off in about thirty seconds,” Brian says, pulling it on anyway and fluffing up the collar. They'd picked them up for about five bucks each at the local thrift shop after Jeordie had chosen their song and decided they needed to go out in fur coats.

“It's part of the look, dammit,” Jeordie says petulantly. He slicks on another layer of red lipstick and smooths out his coat. “Okay. Let's go.”

It's not that Brian is anxious about the actual dancing part. He's practiced enough times to know what he's doing. Brian isn't actually sure why he's anxious. He looks at Jeordie as he peeks around the curtain and light casts in a line down his face, one dark eye ringed with black illuminated, and Brian blinks. Shit. _Now isn't the time, Marilyn,_ he thinks to himself. _Try not to stare at Jeordie when his dress rides up during inversions, bat your lashes at the customers, and show off your ass. Stay in your own lane._

Which is the plan, and the plan goes to shit approximately ten seconds into their routine.

Because Brian hasn't seen Twiggy this close before. He was Jeordie when they practiced, and now he's Twiggy. And Brian really wants to do bad things to Twiggy. Well, okay, Jeordie. Fine. Brian wants _Jeordie_. It's just that now is a really bad time to come to this conclusion.

Brian is walking down to the pole where Jeordie's already working, and all he can hear is his heart and the bass pounding in his ears.

_My god sits in the back of a limousine._

Jeordie's leaning back into the pole, and Brian reaches around and pulls up at his skirt, giving the front row a flash of ruffled lace panties. Part of the plan.

_My god comes in a wrapper of cellophane._

Brian steps around and kneels in front of Jeordie, arching his ass out for the audience and dragging his face up Jeordie's stockings, leaving a streak of purple lipstick. Still part of the plan.

_My god pouts on the cover of the magazines._

Brian stands up again, pushes Jeordie into the pole, and kisses him. Definitely not part of the plan. Not at all.

_My god is a shallow little bitch trying to make a scene._

The funny thing is, Jeordie doesn't seem to mind. He grabs Brian's ass with both hands and kisses him back, lipstick smearing chin and cheeks. Brian vaguely hears whistling, can feel the eyes on them, but everything is Jeordie. When he pulls away Jeordie grins at him and slips away, drops to the floor to crawl along the stage – back to the plan. Right. The plan. Brian grabs the pole and walks around it, lifts his boots off the floor into a spin. When he's back on the stage Jeordie is in front of him again and he grabs Brian's face, smashes their lips together, and licks into his mouth.

_Starfuckers._

Brian feels as if he's been onstage for an hour already but it's only the first chorus. Or maybe the second chorus. He's already lost track of time. All he can hear is Jeordie giggling once he pulls away. He must look like an idiot, gawking at Jeordie as he flips himself into an inversion. Brian almost hates how casual Jeordie is being right now. But there's a plan, and he has to follow the plan, so he does, dropping to the edge of the stage and to the floor to tease a customer in the front row. He pulls the bottom hem of his slip up to his waist, just sheer lace covering his ass now as he climbs back up to help Jeordie down. Jeordie drops his head back over Brian's shoulder, and Brian hears his breath, hears him say quietly to him, louder than a whisper but low enough for just Brian to hear.

“Eat me out,” Jeordie says. “Right here. I fucking dare you.”

And, well, Brian has never been one to say no to a dare.

As soon as Jeordie is back down on his feet, he braces himself on the pole and looks at Brian, probably not expecting him to do it. But he pushes Jeordie's dress up, pulls the panties down under the curve of his bum, and kneels down to mouth purple kisses at the base of his back above his garter belt.

He can't help smiling to himself because Jeordie laughs. But he licks, long and slow, and Jeordie rocks up onto his toes. He stands, arching, grabs Jeordie by the hair, pulls his head to the side, and says to him, “I'll finish that later.”

And then he finally gets back to the fucking plan.

_Now I belong. I'm one of the chosen ones._

The song nearly over, a very flustered looking Jeordie pulls himself up into one last inversion and Brian collects a few bills on the stage as he crawls along the edge. He tucks a twenty into the waistband of his panties and stands up, taking Jeordie's hand as they walk back to gather their coats and go backstage.

“What the fuck,” Jeordie says, his face smeared with purple lipstick from Brian's mouth.

“I couldn't fucking stand there and watch you do it anymore,” Brian says, pushing his hair back out of his face. “I thought I was straight and then you fucking. You're fucking.” Brian is at a loss for words for maybe the first time in his life.

“Whatever,” Jeordie says, grabbing Brian by the arm stocking and pulling him back into the dressing room. “I have a fucking boner and you said you'd eat me out and now you better fucking do it.”

“I've never eaten ass before,” Brian says, suddenly very sobered watching Jeordie lay out across his vanity and arch his back as he pulls his panties down. The smears of purple are still there, so yeah, Brian actually did that. Huh.

“Straight people are so boring,” Jeordie scoffs. “Pretend it's a pussy then.”

Brian doesn't need to pretend anything. It's Jeordie's ass and he's okay with it.

He drops his coat on the floor behind Jeordie and kneels on it, sparing himself a quick glance to check that John isn't angrily storming in to shout at them. Once he's sure they're safe for now, he goes back in again.

Of all the things that Brian has learned about Jeordie in the past two months, it's learning his noises that he enjoys the most.

Jeordie grabs the back of the table and purrs softly, chews his lips together.

“Fuck,” Jeordie manages to say, and Brian laughs quietly, tongue hot and flat over Jeordie's hole, licking steadily into him, and Jeordie's legs shake a little. Brian holds Jeordie's hips as he licks in earnest, and all Jeordie can do is to swear over and over again under his breath. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Shit.”

And it's killing Brian, because all he wants to do is to fucking fuck Jeordie into the table till he can't stand up anymore, but a promise is a promise.

“Oh my fucking god,” Jeordie says pointedly, which is when Brian comes up for air and sees that Jeordie is _staring at himself in the fucking mirror_.

“Are you fucking watching yourself?” Brian asks, and normally Brian prides himself on his quick wit and eloquence, even during sex, but this is Jeordie watching himself get eaten out here.

“Yes,” Jeordie says softly, shyly, blushing under his makeup, and there's absolutely no way Brian can't fuck him now.

“You fucking little slut,” Brian says. “You're gonna watch yourself get fucked now.” Jeordie grins, biting his lip. “Provided I can find some lube around here.”

“John has some,” Jeordie says, and Brian looks at him.

“How do you know?” Brian asks dumbly.

“Because he wears latex and to get latex on you have to put lube on it,” Jeordie says, as if it's obvious. “Fucking hurry up and fuck me.”

 _You learn something new every day,_ Brian thinks, as he goes to John's vanity and starts opening drawers. Feather boas, glitter, sequins. “Where is it?” Brian asks. Jeordie scoffs loudly and joins him at John's chair, opening the top drawer and rifling through makeup products before producing a bottle of water-based lube.

“Now fuck me,” Jeordie says. Brian looks at the bottle, looks at Jeordie bent over John's table.

“Here?” Brian asks.

“Yes, here,” Jeordie says, and well, Brian supposes he has nothing to lose but his job, so.

Brian reaches into his panties to get his cock out and opens the bottle of lube. It's not that he hasn't given anal before, it's just that there was never a second penis involved. He's not sure if there's anything he needs to worry about. He pours lube into his hand and warms it between his fingers before reaching down to lube Jeordie's ass. Brian watches Jeordie's face, watches Jeordie watching his own face, as he slides a finger in, and fuck. Brian doesn't even know if he can fit in here. Jeordie is fucking tight and he feels fucking good and if this is just a finger he doesn't know how long he'll last. He works the finger in, pushes another in with it. Jeordie sighs a soft moan and Brian grins to himself.

“Is that good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jeordie says, nodding to his reflection. Brian keeps watching him, adds more lube, adds another finger. Jeordie grabs at the table, pushing back at Brian's hand. So Brian pulls his fingers out. “Fuck,” Jeordie whines.

“Do you want me to fuck you or not?” Brian remarks, getting more lube and slicking it onto himself this time.

“Yes,” Jeordie says softly, breath hitching as he feels Brian press up against him and slide in.

“Watch your face,” Brian says, reaching around with his dry hand to grab Jeordie by the neck and lift his head up. Jeordie's mouth falls open as Brian hilts himself, hissing through gritted teeth. It's all Brian can do not to just go for it, but Jeordie needs the second to adjust. He presses his chest into Jeordie's back, hooking two fingers into his mouth and speaking to Jeordie's reflection. “You good?” he asks. Jeordie nods, closing his lips around Brian's fingers, and Brian goes.

Maybe it's because it's been a long time coming, but Brian starts him up quick, finding a fast pace that feels fucking amazing. Jeordie moans around Brian's fingers, his hands grabbing for a hold. He knocks over a container of glitter in the process and silver pours across the table and Jeordie. For a split second Brian thinks about how he's going to be finding glitter in his pubes for weeks but he's mostly distracted by Jeordie rocking back to fuck himself on Brian's cock.

“Shit,” Brian says, lube slick fingers trying to grab at Jeordie's ass or his stockings or his garter belt. Jeordie's sucking on the fingers in his mouth and rolling his hips back into Brian's and he's sort of overwhelmed. Brian dicks into him quicker, grabbing one of his garter straps for leverage. “Keep your eyes on that mirror,” he reminds Jeordie.

“Yessir,” Jeordie says around the fingers, and honestly Brian had never pinned Jeordie for being this slutty and submissive but here he is under him, dusted with glitter and sucking on his fingers as he gets fucked. And Brian isn't complaining at all.

Brian can feel himself tense up a bit, like he's nearing his end, and as much as he doesn't want to stop fucking Jeordie he really does want to cum. He pulls his fingers from Jeordie's mouth and grabs his hips, fucking him roughly. Jeordie grabs the opposite end of the table and stares straight into the mirror at himself, his mouth fallen open, little bits of moans slipping out. He's trying to be quiet.

“Don't you dare fucking quiet yourself,” Brian says. “Let the fucking people next door hear you but don't fucking quiet yourself.”

“Fuck!” Jeordie gasps, his legs shaking under him. Brian helps keep him up, still holding his hips, which is when he feels Jeordie get really fucking tight and he groans and Brian realizes he fucking came.

“Did you just fucking cum?” Brian asks.

“Yes,” Jeordie pants, still riding it out on Brian's cock, and that about does it. Brian dicks into him for only another five seconds before he loses it too, spilling into Jeordie and growling into his back.

Brian's head is still spinning when he pulls out. Jeordie unceremoniously pulls his panties up with one hand, still bent over the glitter covered table. John's table. Whoops.

“Fuck it,” Jeordie says. He picks up a handful of spilt glitter and dusts it over his head, shaking it into his dreads.

“What are you doing?” Brian asks, flopping back into John's chair.

“Putting glitter in my dreads,” Jeordie says, rubbing it into what could, loosely, be called dreads. More like a mess of unwashed hair. 

“You're gross,” Brian says. “Let's go home and smoke up.”

Brian is pretty sure that when they're leaving he hears John yell after Twiggy, but they're in his car and gone before he can scold them properly.

 

x

 

Brian loves Jeordie, and that's okay. When they're onstage and they're Marilyn and Twiggy, Marilyn still loves Twiggy. And when they're at home smoking weed on the couch exchanging blowjobs and spitting insults at each other, Jeordie loves Brian a little bit too.

 


End file.
